Through repetition we dull life,
Like knives in hands that no longer care
Where they cut.
Where are our eyes, the joyful minds?
That looked upon the world without judgement,
Before we were stuffed full of other peoples’ knowledge,
Crushed between other peoples’ lines,
Taught to follow a path worn so deep in the landscape of choice,
There seemed no other way to turn…

Now I’ll look for myself,
Decide what’s right from what is wrong,
Take no word but my own.
For regrets only live in the mind that pushes life away,
Following without thinking
The echo of memory –
That mirrored hall, that darkened cave,
Where we push all the pain we imagine is in store –
It’s not.
The pain will not, cannot last.
When we call the bluff of fear,
Say to life – do your worst!
And in that action find nothing but the best:
The living, breathing, transcendent joy
Of being human.